Editor’s note: The following contains spoilers for Oppenheimer. A searing explosion of blinding white light illuminates the desert, as the atomic bomb unleashes unimaginable power, tearing a hole in reality and allowing sinister entities to slip into our world. In the mind of director David Lynch, the creation of weapons of mass destruction unlocks doors that should forever remain closed. In the television series Oppenheimer, the horrific consequences of this weapon are internalized by its creator. Twin Peaks, on the other hand, explores an alternate path to harnessing the darkness unleashed by nuclear devastation, boldly immersing viewers in a surreal, black-and-white nightmare.
To truly grasp the significance of these narratives, one must delve into the anxieties that plagued society during the Cold War, as well as the director’s own fascination with and condemnation of the era. Nestled within the cozy and eerie embrace of the Pacific Northwest, Twin Peaks captivated audiences throughout the early 1990s, introducing them to a world teetering on the edge of reality, inhabited by a diverse cast of characters, both human and phantasmal. While the Washington town of Twin Peaks may have appeared dreamlike, it was plagued by harrowing nightmares.
In the 2017 revival, Twin Peaks: The Return, Lynch’s signature surrealism delves deeper, ruthlessly plunging viewers into a realm of abstract horror. In “Part 7,” a monochromatic poster depicting an atomic explosion adorns the office of FBI Director Gordon Cole. Symbolism abounds in this floor-to-ceiling image, setting the stage for the significance of this historical moment within the context of the show. Unforeseen terrors emerge as the storyline unfolds.
“Part 8” transports audiences to the past, immersing them in the Trinity test, with on-screen text revealing the date as “White Sands, New Mexico, 1945.” This date holds immense historical weight, instantly recognizable to history buffs and average viewers alike. A distorted, static-filled voice counts down to the detonation of the first atomic bomb, paired with the haunting composition “Threnody to the Victims of Hiroshima” by Krzysztof Penderecki. As the camera inches closer to the mushroom cloud, the disorienting orchestral piece consumes the senses, leaving only the visuals to guide the narrative. The attention to detail in both sound design and visuals exemplify Lynch’s unfiltered artistry. Vibrant bursts of color flicker, alternating between red, green, and purple, as an accelerating inferno and other colorless images command attention. A black screen envelops the screen, with white specks reminiscent of flying insects. Instead of focusing on the immediate destruction caused by a nuclear explosion, Twin Peaks delves inward on an avant-garde journey.
From the Trinity test, wicked beings emerge from the otherworldly Black Lodge, a realm of pure evil. The blast gives birth to a pale figure devoid of human qualities, spewing forth an endless stream of substance filled with eggs. Within this grotesque ooze lurks the entity known as Killer BOB, who inflicts untold torment upon the town of Twin Peaks.
In contrast, Christopher Nolan’s biopic Oppenheimer takes a more straightforward approach to depicting the Trinity test, the birth of the atomic bomb. Rather than relying on deafening booms and Penderecki’s score, Nolan focuses on the breathless anticipation and gasps of the witnesses as they witness the culmination of their creation. Only after a prolonged silence does the roar of the shock wave engulf the scene. Earlier in the film, physicist J. Robert Oppenheimer experiences internal anxiety manifesting as thunderous banging, ultimately revealed to be the resounding cheers of a crowd eagerly awaiting his victory speech after the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The thunderous noise crescendos before abruptly fading into a chilling silence, shattered by a terrified scream. Nolan’s portrayal captures the gravity of the moment without delving into abstraction.
Lynch’s approach, however, embraces the abstract fully. In “Part 8,” a temporal leap transports viewers to “New Mexico, 1956,” where a young couple stumbles upon a face-up penny, blissfully interpreting it as a symbol of good luck and innocence. Little do they know that their town will soon be stripped of its innocence, invaded by growling Woodsmen with scorched skin and a frog-moth creature emerging from an egg, reminiscent of the sinister vomit trail. The Woodsmen and the frog-moth symbolize the irreversible consequences of a nuclear blast. This episode also marks the first time Twin Peaks ventures into the time period that evokes nostalgia in fans of the original series. While Lynch has a fondness for the 1950s, he never presents a simplistic, idealized version of the decade in his works. Even in Blue Velvet, with its opening scenes of idyllic small-town life, Lynch unveils the darker underbelly lurking beneath the surface.
The connection between monsters and atomic horror dates back to the 1950s, as explored in Nightmares in Red, White, and Blue, a documentary that examines societal fears throughout different decades, as reflected in horror films. Filmmaker John Carpenter describes the monsters of the ’50s as creatures born from the threat of nuclear warfare, mutated by radiation. Giant creatures, such as the monstrous ants in Them!, embodied the anxieties surrounding science gone awry. In The Return, Lynch adds his own unique contribution to this subgenre, drawing inspiration from his experience in Yugoslavia, where he encountered oversized moths emerging from the dusty earth. Like in Them!, the New Mexico town in Twin Peaks: The Return is tainted by contamination.
While ’50s monster movies often incorporated subtle commentary on the Communist threat, the perils of scientific advancement, and celebrated military prowess, Lynch steers in a different direction. He transforms the atomic bomb into a vessel for surreal horror, harnessing the bright flash of an explosion and infusing it with eerie, menacing symbolism and abstract imagery.
In conclusion, the convergence of Oppenheimer and Twin Peaks provides distinct perspectives on the nuclear age and its impact on society. Where Oppenheimer highlights the human anxieties and triumphs tied to the development of atomic weapons, Twin Peaks delves into the surreal horrors unleashed by these creations. Both approaches offer thought-provoking explorations of a defining era in history, enticing viewers with their unique blend of storytelling and visual artistry.
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Khushi Patel is a science fiction author who lives in Austin, Texas. She has published three novels, and her work has been praised for its originality and imagination. Khushi is a graduate of Rice University, and she has worked as a software engineer. She is a member of the Science Fiction Writers of America, and her books have been nominated for several awards.
